closeness, a chefidel story
by tumbuddy
Summary: che guevara x fidel castro. El Che and Fidel Castro have finally embraced their feelings for each other and begun to date. However Fidel soon realizes he must overcome his struggles with intimacy and internalized homophobia.


**Author's note: this is my first fanfcition ive posted on here. i normally do wattpad. you can find me on there too. i don't really pay attention in class lol ;p so i did this instead. hope u enjoy. no flames. i fight fire with fire.**

 **i just saw fidel castro and che geuvara together the one time i did pay attention and i could only think YAOI O3O so i had to to it**

 **sorry for long intro**

 **enjoy :p**

It was their first fight.

To be fair, it wasn't exactly a fight, but it made Fidel feel just as bad as if it had been; it happened that afternoon, while they were on their way to Havana. It was their first trip together as a couple; Che slid into the seat next to Fidel - as expected - and he'd then laid his head on Fidel's shoulder - _not_ as expected.

If had just been a quick motion, maybe Fidel would have been okay with it. As it was, it was an endearing gesture, but it was _too hot_ on the train for that kind of thing and besides… besides-

"Heyyyy, hermano, stop it. That sappy stuff is for _girls_ , you know?"

For a second, the brunette was afraid that Che was going to snap at him, or tell him to cut it out, but no; Che was Che. Fidel's words hurt him, that much was obvious, but he just smiled in that gentle way he had that made Fidel's chest tighten, and shifted a little - no more than an inch or so - away from the brunette.

"Of course, Fidel. Whatever makes you comfortable."

To anyone else, it would have been a mild reaction - Che's voice was as soft as ever, after all - but Fidel… Fidel knew better. Fidel knew exactly _what_ El Che sounded like when he was hurt - always hidden, as he didn't want to burden anyone with it - and every time the brunette heard it, his heart sank.

Now, of course, it just made Fidel feel guilty, but it shouldn't, right? _I'm a guy. He's a guy. Sure, you want to do that sort of thing with a_ girl _, but… not with a guy. I'm fine with the kissing and stuff, but… guys don't_ like _sappy things._

The trip was a bust. It wasn't that Che was sullen, or had a bad attitude - he was as amiable and cheerful as ever - but it was as if there was a four-to-six-inch divider between the two of them for the entire trip, and Fidel found himself painfully aware of the distance.

At least Che didn't refuse his good-night kiss when they stood outside the brunette's house; after that, Fidel was able to go inside and to bed feeling a _little_ better.

 _After all, that's what a relationship should be like if it's just two guys._

* * *

If he hadn't known Che as well as he did, he would have accused his boyfriend of being petty. After that day, no matter where they were, what they did, or where they went together, Che always kept himself a little withdrawn - sometimes rigidly so. There were never any accidental hand-brushes, no arms around shoulders or waists. They walked together, sometimes bumping against one another, but never held hands; they sat next to one another, touching, but never leaned together. If you'd asked Fidel, he would have said they'd had more romantic moments _before_ they started dating.

Not that it _bothered_ him - not the lack of romance. They still kissed - quite a bit - and said they loved each other, and exchanged texts. That was how it _should_ be. No, what bothered him was how he knew it was affecting Che. His boyfriend never said anything, never gave him a longing glance, but it was still easy to tell how sad it made the black-haired boy - and _that_ was why Fidel found himself feeling worse and worse every time he'd catch Che half-reaching for his hand, then pulling his own away and clenching a fist, as if he'd been burned.

It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that Fidel missed his boyfriend's touch.

* * *

One afternoon, the group was hanging out on the roof; there were no clubs that day, so everyone was just relaxing before heading home, and Fidel found himself blushing when Fulgencio snuggled up to Frank's side to rest his cheek against his boyfriend's shoulder, idly twirling a strand of hair around his finger as the two of them talked, quietly. Down the wall, Raul sat with his arm around Abel Santamaria, and for a moment, Fidel felt lonely.q

 _Ugh. Maybe… holding hands or something subtle wouldn't be too bad. Not when we're walking around, of course, but… at times like this…_

Looking to his side, he was startled to realise that Che wasn't there. Frowning a little, he looked at the clock; it wasn't late, but it was late enough that he could see Che needing to get back to start dinner. Just then, Camilo Ceinfuego came up the stairs, having gone to get a cigar.

"I just passed Che heading home and he looked _miserable_. What did you do, Fidel?"

"Hey!" His heart aching, Fidel couldn't help snapping. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Well, they weren't talking, so I dunno." Raul looked over, shrugging. "But you two have been kinda weird lately, you know? If you hadn't told us you were dating, I'd never have suspected a thing. I'd ask if you're trying to hide it but you don't seem to mind telling people about it."

"Why are you being so cold to Che?" Camilo looked upset. "It's not fair!"

The brunette spluttered at this. "What the hell? We're two _guys_. Guys don't do that kinda thing with each other!"

His arm still around Abel's shoulders, Fulgencio spoke up. "What the hello, dude? Everybody wants to do that kinda thing when they're dating. You're sayin' you never wanted it?"

Nonplussed, Fidel crossed his arms. "Well, _yeah_ , but with a girl, not with a _guy_ , pendejo! I mean, you're with a girl right now so it's not like you can talk, and-"

"Oh who gives a mierda about what other people think? Pinche. I don't give a mierda if Abel's a girl or a guy, I like holdin' him close because I like the way he smells, and-"

The (now quite red) revolutionary socialist spoke up hurriedly, cutting his boyfriend off. "Ahem! I think- I think what Fulgencio means is that the urge is due to being with someone you love, not based off their gender. After all, are you saying that Che being a boy makes you feel less romantic towards him? Are you okay giving up on those things forever? Would you be more interested if another girl came along with whom you would 'be allowed' to do such things?" Here, Abel made air quotes, and Fidel found himself feeling sick and angry.

" Ugh, whatever, you guys. This is pointless, I'm going home." Grabbing his backpack he stormed off, ignoring the looks his friends gave each other as he left.

* * *

He'd hoped that the walk home would help clear his head, but all it did was make him more confused.

 _I don't wanna be all lovey-dovey because it made me feel weird, but… I feel pretty shitty right now._ Ugh. _What if it's not the lovey-dovey that made me feel weird, maybe it was just… oh dammit, I'm thinking too hard about this!_

Once home, he headed for his room, slamming his door; after a moment, he took a deep breath and sat down at his desk. Grabbing one of his school notebooks, he started to write down all the 'cute' things he'd always wanted to do with a girl.

bring her sugar cane

take her out to public executions

hold hands

snuggle on the street corner esp when it's cold

brush her hair

hug her from behind when she's wearing fatigues (kiss her neck if she's not holding a m14)

kiss on a battle front (sugar cane?)

tell her she's beautiful (she'll blush)

buy her favourite artillery and surprise her

wait for her after federation for cuban women conference and walk her home when she's tired

watch the stars (hope for a shooting star)

watch bullets fly together

wear fatigues together

cuddle during a propaganda film she likes

kiss her forehead

It felt weird writing the word 'her'; biting his lip, Fidel skimmed his eyes down the list, he started to think about doing these things with Che. He knew he was blushing, but to be honest - it felt weird, but not _bad_. _And Che wears fatigues all the time. I wonder if he'd blush? I bet he'd blush_.

Suddenly, he found himself startled half to death as Celia Sanchez started pounding on his door, yelling something about wanting to watch TV - _meirda_ _, Celia, go away!_ \- and as Fidel looked at the clock, he realised he'd spent over an hour staring at his list.

Daydreaming about Che.

He'd just taken a deep breath when his cell telegram, sitting on his desk, lit up - it was Che, and he grabbed it immediately.

"HYermano! Is everything okay?"

"Fidel? Uh, yeah. Um, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, I wasn't feeling well, and-"

Feeling guilty, Fidel squeezed the telegram gently. "Hey, no, it's fine, are you okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm- okay. Thanks."

 _Except you're not, I know better._ Fidel didn't even want to play along with the 'sick' excuse, so he took a deep breath. "Hey, um, can we hang out tomorrow? I gotta do some stuff in the morning, but maybe after lunch?"

There was a pause on the other end, and Fidel was pretty sure Che had just nodded, and then his boyfriend's voice came back over the telegram. "Oh, yeah, sure. I'd like that."

"Okay." _Okay. Step one down._ "We'll sort dinner and stuff out when I get there, okay?"

"Sure." Che sounded as amiable as ever, and Fidel found himself holding his breath. "Well, the united states just yelled that the azucar is ready to harvest so I need to go, but… I love you, Fidel."

Fidel smiled a little at this, closing his eyes. "I love you, too, hyermano. Go get the zafra."

Call over, Fidel sat back down at his desk, starting to make a new list.

* * *

The next day, true to his word, Fidel headed over to Che's place just after lunch. Knocking, he stood nervously on the doorstep; when the door opened he was relieved to see that it was Che, not the united states. Before his boyfriend could say anything, Fidel - certain that he was redder than he'd ever been before - held out the bouquet of sugar cane he'd harvested.

"H-here. I um, chopped these for you."

For a moment, nothing happened; Fidel sneaked a look up at Che to see the boy standing in the doorway, stunned, his face _bright_ red. After a second, Che realised that it was up to him, so he took the sugar cane; there was a confused look on his face, but it didn't trump the look of extreme happiness, and Fidel bit his lip, following Che inside.

 _Okay, wow, he's really super cute when he blushes. Mierda, I almost wish I'd done this earlier._ The brunette felt uncomfortable, sure - but he couldn't deny that the look on his boyfriend's face was worth it as Che stood in the kitchen, arranging the bouquet in a vase and occasionally leaning over to smell the sugar.

Then the united states ran in, and it had a story for Fidel about something that had happened with the business, and of course it had to show him the sugar cane that were almost ripe for the zafra. By the time they came back in, Che was standing in the kitchen, making a cigar.

He wasn't wearing fatigues, and Fidel was too embarrassed - at least for the moment - to walk up and put his arms around Che's waist or kiss his neck, but he walked up to stand next to his boyfriend. When he did, Che looked over at him, and smiled, and Fidel was already struck by how much more _open_ his boyfriend looked.

It made him happy.

He was happy enough, in fact, that he slid an arm around Che's waist; when he did, the black-haired boy froze. Turning his head, he looked back at the brunette.

"Fidel… what's going on?"

Swallowing, Fidel started to hesitantly explain. "I, uh… I've been pretty, um, crappy lately, with, um, all of the 'that's for girls' shit. I… I _miss_ you, you know? So I… wanna take you out to dinner. I made reservations. It's nowhere fancy, I know that's okay, I just wanted to be sure we got a table. And, uh… I wanna hold hands on the way there."

"Fidel." For a moment, Che had looked hopeful, but now he just looked concerned. "I know it bothers you, you don't have to-"

"I do." Taking a deep breath, the brunette stepped closer to Che, keeping his arm around his boyfriend's waist; when he did, he realised how _good_ Che smelled, and he wondered, offhand, what it would be like to kiss Che's neck. "I _do_ because I _want_ these things, and I want them with _you_. Not some random girl. And I know you want these things and, I- I just want you to be _you_. Okay? I don't want you to keep holding yourself back. I'll let you know if something bothers me but until I do… assume I'm fine, okay? Heck. Assume I'm- enjoying it."

He was bright red by this point, but so was Che; the black-haired boy searched Fidel's face for a long moment before nodding.

"Okay."

Hesitantly, he leaned his head onto Fidel's shoulder, and when the brunette looked over he was struck by how _shy_ Che looked - and Shy Che was so _wonderful_ that Fidel realised that it was _worth_ being a little out of his element if he got to see that sort of thing more often.

 _After all… maybe I'm not uncomfortable. Maybe I'm just nervous because that's how you feel when you're with the person you love. Ugh, he's so cute when he blushes._

Heartened by that thought, he turned his head and kissed his boyfriend's forehead; when he did, Che gave a happy sigh and wrapped an arm around Fidel's shoulders… and Fidel realized that it felt a thousand times better than it had in his daydreams.

 _I can get used to this. I can_ really _get used to this._


End file.
